The 39 Best The Aeneid Quotes

The descent into Hell is easy.

The gates of Hell are open night and day; smooth the descent and easy is the way.

Through pain I've learned to comfort suffering men.

Una Salus Victis Nullam Sperare Salutem - (Latin - written 19 BC) The only hope for the doomed, is no hope at all...

...She nourishes the poison in her veins and is consumed by a secret fire.

The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.

Facilis descensus Averno: Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis; Sed revocare gradium superasque evadere ad auras, Hoc opus, hic labor est. (The gates of Hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this task and mighty labor lies.).

But the queen--too long she has suffered the pain of love, hour by hour nursing the wound with her lifeblood, consumed by the fire buried in her heart. [...] His looks, his words, they pierce her heart and cling-- no peace, no rest for her body, love will give her none.

Death's brother, sleep.

Ah, merciless Love, is there any length to which you cannot force the human heart to go?.

Death's brother, sleep.

the dewy night unrolls a heaven thickly jewelled with sparkling stars.

Friend, have the courage To care little for wealth, and shape yourself, You too, to merit godhead.

What good are prayers and shrines to a person mad with love? The flame keeps gnawing into her tender marrow hour by hour, and deep in her heart the silent wound lives on.

Duty bound, Aeneas, though he struggled with desire to calm and comfort her in all her pain, to speak to her and turn her mind from grief, and though he sighed his heart out, shaken still with love if her, yet took the course heaven gave him and turned back to the fleet.

So Aeneas pleaded, his face streaming tears. Three times he tried to fling his arms around his neck, three times he embraced--nothing...the phantom sifting through his fingers, light as wind, quick as a dream in flight.

The seeds of life - fiery is their force, divine their birth, but they are weighed down by the bodies' ills or dulled by limbs and flesh that's born for death. That is the source of all men's fears and longings, joys and sorrows, nor can they see the heaven's light, shut up in the body's tomb, a prison dark and deep.

..and why the winter suns so rush to bathe themselves in the sea and what slows down the nights to a long lingering crawl...

So ran the speech. Burdened and sick at heart, He feigned hope in his look, and inwardly Contained his anguish. […] Aeneas, more than any, secretly Mourned for them all.

What a tale he's told, what a bitter bowl of war he's drunk to the dregs.

So ran the speech. Burdened and sick at heart, He feigned hope in his look, and inwardly Contained his anguish. […] Aeneas, more than any, secretly Mourned for them all.

Will Mars be always in your windy tongue and in your flying feet?.

What a tale he's told, what a bitter bowl of war he's drunk to the dregs.

[He] Spoke and rose to full height, sword in air, Then cleft the man's brow square between the temples Cutting his head in two -- a dreadful gash Between the cheeks all beardless. Earth resounded Quivering at the great shock of his weight As he went tumbling down in all his armor, Drenched with blood and brains; in equal halves His head hung this and that way from his shoulders.